Last Sunday the woman, who was preaching, asked us what our thoughts were on the passage of scripture she had talked about the week previous. It is the story of the man by the pool of Bethesda who waited 38 years for someone to help him get into the pool. Everyone participated and it was a lively discussion. What I wondered and I seem to do this a lot...isn't so much about the man who was healed but the many at the same pool on that same day who were not. Jesus asked him what he wanted...but just asked him as far as we know. Ironically Scotty heard a message from Joni Erickson Tada who for the last 40 years has waited in her wheelchair, not healed, waiting and sitting at that proverbial pool on that Sabbath day.
Often times in our 'its all about me' culture we think we are the named disciple, the one is healed, the one who is spoken too, the one who is chosen, rather than the countless unnamed followers of Jesus and overlooked sick and paralyzed waiting by the road or pool. In my walk of faith, I haven't gotten a Word, a vision, a special revelation, an audible calling or vocational inspiration. When I talk about trusting God, I still make sure there is money in our bank account and pay for insurance. When we get sick, I don't assume God to heal though I know He can. When someone posts a financial need on Facebook I think I should give rather then just tell them I will pray. I don't know what our future holds but I am not quitting my job until I know where the next one is. I wonder if I am found wanting and when God looks over the world to find that faithful person, I am overlooked.
I look at the select few around and when they speak about their conversations with God, their healing, their word of testimony, their amazing unwavering faith I inevitable compare myself and find myself wanting or at the very least, missing out. I envy their breathless wonder and humble submission and answered prayer.
Walking around in Indonesia you can't help feel like you are a lumbering giant of a person. Everyone is usually smaller than you including the men. It isn't comfortable being larger than everyone in the airport lounge even if it is just my own warped perspective. This is how I feel when I get with people who seem to know God much more than I, or at least trust Him much more than I.
I wonder, though, for most of us it seems...that we in our wrestling, lumbering, non-tactile, faltering faith are as important even if we are not the healed, not the spoken too, not the sure, not the called but unnamed followers of Jesus. Are we also important in that great family if our prayers are not answered and our devotion uninspired?
Jesus called a few to be His named disciples though his message of salvation was for the many unnamed. In my preening pride is it OK with me not to be the named one, the healed one, the called one? I hope so...because I am.
